Gabi, Fragmentos de Una Adolescente / Gabi, a Girl in Pieces – hinnat ja saatavuus

Gabi a n no entiende qui n es. Escribir la ayudar a juntar sus pedazos. Gabi Hern ndez est en su ltimo a o de la preparatoria. Para entretenerse, escribe todo lo que le pasa en su diario: las solicitudes a las universidades, el embarazo de Cindy, cuando Sebasti n sali del cl set, los chicos guapos de su clase, la adicci n de su padre a la metanfetamina, y toda la comida que se le antoja. Pero lo mejor de todo lo que escribe es la poes a que la ayuda a ser quien es. 24 de julio Mi madre me llam Gabriela en honor de mi abuela materna, quien, por cierto, no quiso conocerme cuando nac porque mi mam no estaba casada, es decir, viv a en pecado. Mi mam me cont muchas, muchas, muchas veces c mo mi abuela la golpe cuando le confes que estaba embarazada de m . Le dio una paliza A los veinticinco a os. Esa historia es la base de mi educaci n sexual. Cada vez que salgo con alguien, mi mam dice, "Ojos abiertos, piernas cerradas". Hasta ah llega la conversaci n de las abejitas y las flores. Y por m est bien, aun si no estoy enteramente de acuerdo con toda esa basura de "esperar hasta que te cases". O sea, esto es Estados Unidos y es el siglo XXI, no M xico hace cien a os. Pero, claro, no se lo puedo decir a mi mam porque pensar a que soy mala. O peor: que intento ser blanca. ENGLISH DESCRIPTION Named to Kirkus Reviews Best Books of 2014Named to School Library Journal Best Books of 2014Gabi Hernandez chronicles her last year in high school in her diary: college applications, Cindy's pregnancy, Sebastian's coming out, the cute boys, her father's meth habit, and the food she craves. And best of all, the poetry that helps forge her identity. July 24My mother named me Gabriella, after my grandmother who, coincidentally, didn't want to meet me when I was born because my mother was unmarried, and therefore living in sin. My mom has told me the story many, many, MANY, times of how, when she confessed to my grandmother that she was pregnant with me, her mother beat her. BEAT HER She was twenty-five. That story is the basis of my sexual education and has reiterated why it's important to wait until you're married to give it up. So now, every time I go out with a guy, my mom says, "Ojos abiertos, piernas cerradas." Eyes open, legs closed. That's as far as the birds and the bees talk has gone. And I don't mind it. I don't necessarily agree with that whole wait until you're married crap, though. I mean, this is America and the 21st century; not Mexico one hundred years ago. But, of course, I can't tell my mom that because she will think I'm bad. Or worse: trying to be White.